


Trust Fall

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Accidents, Angst and Feels, Apologies, Chase has issues, Concussions, Determination, Drinking, Excitement, Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Fear of Heights, Forgiveness, Guilt, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Kindness, Major Character Injury, Mid-Canon, Multiple Selves, Nervousness, Panic, Self-Esteem Issues, Surprises, The Author Regrets Everything, Trick Shots, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whump, reassurance, stunts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-23 20:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Sometimes Chase has special guest stars on his Bro Average channel to liven things up and give his viewers an opportunity to meet the other Egos. All of their appearances are memorable but some...some are memorable for how they went wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt from Tumblr: "Does Chase ever have Jameson on the Bro Average channel doing tricks with him? I imagine it'd be pretty new for JJ.... What would happen if he got hurt during a stunt?"

**“Am I doing this properly?”**  Jameson signed, leaning one shoulder against the wall for balance. The platform underneath him held firm, hardly a wobble in it as he fidgeted with nervous excitement.

“Yep, just stay there while I’m doing the intro!” Chase hollered back, spinning around and leveling his nerf gun for the camera to see. “Yo! What’s up, guys? I’m Chase and welcome to Bro Average! This one’s called ‘Target Time!’” He paused then, wrinkling his nose in thought. “‘Teeter Target’? ‘Target Topple’? Ehh, maybe I’ll come up with a better name for it afterward. Anyway! My very special guest star, Jameson, is up on those platforms! Each one is connected to a target that I have to hit with my nerf gun. He steps, I miss, the platform doesn’t lift out from the wall and he falls! I’d advise you kids not to try this at home! There’s lots of padding on the floor below so Jamie won’t be hurt but this one’s for the experts!”

To be honest, he’d been more excited for this shoot than he could begin to say. On the few times that he had been invited on the show, Jameson had created a name for himself with the viewers; they seemed to take just as a big a shine to him as Chase had and were always requesting that he make more appearances. It had been a great opportunity for them to bond and for Chase to teach Jameson some things about the world he was in. To show him those comments from people saying they liked him, to see him beam with delight and pride…Chase was happy in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.

Not to mention that this particular stunt was one Chase and his crew had worked long and hard to perfect. They’d tested everything multiple times, measuring weight and distance and height—it was entirely safe, which was why he gave a reassuring thumbs up to Jameson, who smiled in return.

“You get all that, JJ?” he called.

 **“Yes. I just…step out and you shoot the next platform so it’ll be there for me before I take a tumble,”**  he signed back before glancing over the side of the platform he stood on. As soon as he saw what lay below, his smile faltered and he quickly brought his head back up, wringing his hands faintly.  **“I—I-I do have to mention that I’m not p-particularly fond of heights…”**

“ _Oh_ —” Something uncomfortable lurched in Chase’s stomach at that as he remembered the last time he’d tried to perform a Heights Challenge on this channel, when he was still doing it on his own. He had been petrified, paralyzed; Jackieboy had needed to carry him down. He hadn’t even considered Jameson might share his fear. “Well…did you want one of the others to step in?” he questioned sincerely. “The stunt guys and I have been practicing on them all week. I could be up there and you could shoot?”

 **“Oh, golly, no, I don’t trust myself to aim true with that contraption!”**  Jameson exclaimed ruefully, hesitating.  **“You…say you’ve practiced on them? And they’re safe?”**

“Safe as can be! And you’re not too far from the ground, and there’s lots of padding below you,” Chase repeated kindly. “Hey, listen, I can ask someone else to do it and you can bounce out if you need to! It’ll be no problem.”

 **“Ah, but you’ve promised _me_  to your fans in your promotions, haven’t you?”** Jameson sighed, peeking over the edge one more time before shaking his head and squaring his shoulders.  **“I daren’t disappoint them. The…the show must go on.”**

“Okay. You’ve got this, buddy. We can go slow at first.” That said, Chase took his time shifting his stance and aiming for the target, demonstrating for Jameson to see. Just as he knew it would, the platform sprang upright as soon as the nerf bullet struck. “And then you just hop on over there, see? Good! Let’s try the next one…Good!”

As they went back and forth over the course, Chase was relieved to see that Jameson was gaining confidence, picking up a bit more speed in his journey to the next platform. The first time Chase missed and he fell, the gentleman did let out a silent shriek of alarm before he hit the padding but when he sat up, the worst he had was tousled hair and a face of confusion.

“There, y’see?” the older Ego pointed out. “It’s a pretty soft landing!”

At that, Jameson cracked a grin, lunging to his feet and brushing his clothing down with gusto.  **“Well, then! Let’s give another crack at that, shall we?”**

As Jameson scrambled back up to the platforms and started over, it was like watching a little fawn learn how to run, Chase realized, chuckling at himself and his cliché metal imagery as he focused on the next shot. JJ only spent a moment or two on each platform now, trusting that Chase would make the next shot as he took his next step.

 **“This _is_  rather fun!”** he signed gleefully, earning a grin from Chase that spurred him on with a new burst of speed. He very nearly ran over the course, each movement faster than the last, and Chase couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer excitement on his face. He’d nearly forgotten that he was supposed to be making commentary; for him, this was just a fun moment with his boy.

 _His_ boy—For a split second, Chase wavered at the thought, only to remember himself, gasping and lunging sideways for the next shot as Jameson got too eager and leapt  _over_  one of the platforms toward the one on its other side.

“Whoa, hey, slow down!”

Jameson faltered at that cry, glancing sideways at Chase as he tried to steady himself. Distracted, he misstepped, yelping and pitching forward as he found nothing but thin air under his foot. Chase didn’t have time to think; he reacted, firing haphazardly at the next target and swinging the next platform up just in time for the younger Ego’s head to connect with a sickening crack as he fell.

The padding was still just as present as it had been before but Jameson struck as a limp pile of tangled limbs and when he landed, he didn’t get up. Again Chase felt the stomach-turning crawl of terror turn his feet into lead but as soon as he fully processed what had just happened, the gun fell from his limp fingers and he screamed.

“ _Jameson!_ ”

He was across the room in seconds as the camera crew clamored, throwing aside their equipment in favor of phones to call for help. Vision blurring, Chase hurriedly turned Jameson onto his back, cupping his cheeks and smoothing his hair back to examine the ugly bruises forming on his forehead. “Jamie? Jameson? C’mon, Jem, can you hear me? Please, Jays, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Please, wake up…Please wake up…”

* * *

“The little one has grade-two concussion,” Schneep announced as he emerged from Jameson’s room. “He at least knows who he is and who we are, so there is no brain damage. Needless to say, he is dazed! There is lot of downtime in store for him so he can rest back up, but it certainly could have been much worse for our Jamie.”

“There, Chase, you see?” Jackieboy murmured supportively, wrapping an arm around the vlogger’s slumped shoulders. “What did I tell you? He’s gotta take it easy for a while, but he’s going to be just fine.”

Chase didn’t respond, staring numbly down at his feet, his eyes still glassy with unshed tears. He could sense Jackieboy and Schneep sharing a worried look over his head, but he couldn’t find it in himself to reassure them that he was fine. He  _wasn’t_. Jackieboy’s words of reassurance barely registered in his ears behind the appalling crack of Jameson’s head hitting the platform and as his eyes drifted over the carpet, all he could see was him falling.

Jameson had trusted him. He had trusted him to be there, to know what he was doing, to keep him safe. He had managed exactly none of those things and he’d gotten him hurt— _significantly_  hurt. He’d given him a  _concussion_  because he wasn’t there for him, because he’d hesitated for two friggin’ seconds.

His boy.

Ignoring the concerned glances of the older Egos, he leaned forward, sobbing softly as he hid his face behind shaking hands.

He didn’t deserve to call him his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the accident that injured Jameson on the last show of Bro Average, Chase struggles with the old feelings of self-loathing that surface whenever he hurts a member of his family.

Chase knew he couldn’t put it off for much longer. From what Schneep had said, Jameson had been asking for him ever since he’d awoken the first time after the accident. Despite how this knowledge tugged fiercely at his heartstrings, it only served to pluck more guilt from them. The shame had long since lodged like a blood clot into his chest and it wouldn’t let go any time soon. Every time he thought of what had happened, he forgot how to breathe.

Without the shadow of a doubt he knew that as soon as he stepped into that room and laid eyes on Jameson with his head wrapped in bandages, he would break, and if that happened, who knew how long it would be before he could repair himself again?

He’d done this far too many times by now.

Every time his kids got hurt when they were playing, it had brought out something awful in him, something sickly that threatened to paralyze him—a sense of failure and helplessness. Wasn’t it his duty to _protect_ them? Wasn’t he meant to make sure they never had to feel that pain that the flawed world threw on them just because it wanted to?

The scraped and bloody knees and elbows Brianna and Connor had brought to him were terrible enough; their tears broke his heart every time he saw them, no matter what had caused them. Jameson was different. In a way, he was even more innocent and naïve than Chase’s real children were and that meant Chase was supposed to protect him all the more fiercely.

All he had done was more grievously injure him. For neither the first nor last time, the moment danced through his mind again.

_“Whoa, hey, slow down!”_

Jameson had turned to look at him and because of it he hadn’t watched his footing. Chase’s attempt to warn him had been the very thing that sealed his fate. Every time he paused to think, he could see the fun and excitement in JJ’s eyes shift into uncertainty and then fear. The sound of his head crashing into the platform, the sound of his body hitting the floor, the bruises forming underneath Chase’s hands as he held him…The vlogger would never forget it.

Somehow Jameson and the others expected him to look at the results of his carelessness and be unaffected. He couldn’t. He would fail as soon as he opened the door—therefore he didn’t.

Sometimes one of the older Egos would gently try to nudge him. “Chase, would you mind checking on the little one, making sure he hasn’t tried to pick up his book again? He’s meant to be resting his mind and he tends to squint when he’s reading,” Schneep had requested ever so innocently. “Is sure to result in a headache for him and you’re always the best at keeping him company, keeping him distracted—”

It was Chase _distracting_ him that had put him in that bed. “Sorry, doc, I’ve got filming to do,” he had mumbled, to the doctor’s visible disappointment as he’d wandered toward the door, dragging one of his nerf rifles behind him.

It wasn’t as if he would actually get any filming done; he was just going through the motions. Yes, he went to their filming location and yes, he called his crew and swore to them that he would be able to focus today, but every single time he stepped onto that set, he froze. Every time he stared into those camera lenses, his well-practiced intro stuck in his throat. How could he try to go about his business as if nothing was wrong when _everything_ was wrong?

He knew his fans were getting worried; he hadn’t uploaded a video on the day of the accident for obvious reasons and the fans had noticed that immediately, sending a storm of comments his way asking if he was having technical issues or if something was genuinely wrong. It was despicable of him but he hadn’t been able to face them either. As of yet he still hadn’t given any explanation for it, and that just made him hate himself more. He was letting them panic.

Maybe in his subconscious, he figured that panic and concern was what Jameson deserved after what had been done to him. He _should_ have people worrying about him. He _should_ have people caring, people who couldn’t hurt him from the other side of the screen.

As he always did when he managed to mess up and hurt his family, he found the bottle of whiskey comfortingly heavy and cool in his hand. He didn’t bother with a glass this time, taking long sips straight from the bottle, greedily looking for that buzz that would make him forget. It only served to make him feel sick; every swallow was like searing, broken glass down his throat until he couldn’t stomach any more of it and had to push the drink away.

Moisture was already prickling hotly against his eyes. Maybe there was no better time like the present to see him. Better to visit him now while he was already breaking than to wait until he broke down again some other time.

The afternoon had waned into early evening by the time he actually found the strength to get up and trudge toward Jameson’s room. He could sense Jackieboy’s eyes flick away from the television and follow him as he passed through the hallway, but he didn’t acknowledge them. If he did, he might hesitate, back up to stall by talking with him or find some way to change his mind.

Jameson’s room was dim, the curtains drawn mostly shut and the blinds peeking through at half-mast. Momentarily it struck Chase that he hadn’t been in here for a good while now. More often than not, Jameson was coming to visit his room and it was startling to see how many similarities had appeared. There were shelves lined with books—more than half of them comics—and a crate in the far left corner by the closet, which was decidedly messier than it had been. Life-size posters had been put into black frames on the walls and it didn’t matter that they were of old-fashioned cartoon characters instead of bands; Chase could see that they were hung in all too familiar positions.

The youngest Ego’s room looked frighteningly like Chase’s. He was fashioning it after him because he _admired_ him. It took everything Chase had in him not to burst into tears then and there. With a hurried swipe at his eyes, he finally tore his gaze away from the surroundings and positioned it on the owner.

As he’d expected, Jameson was sleeping soundly, nestled in more than enough blankets—No doubt Schneep had stocked him up with extras. An ice pack, no doubt meant to be positioned against his head, had slid further down the pillow into the crook of his neck without his notice. As Chase approached, it was all too easy for him to see that Jameson was paler than he should be, the bruises standing out harshly against the skin.

Swallowing thickly, Chase sank down on the edge of the bed, scooping up the fallen ice pack that had long since lost its chill and scooting it onto the bedside table next to the various photographs of the other Egos Jameson had taken. It didn’t escape his notice that the picture of him was the closest to the bed.

“Jem…” he whispered soundlessly, peeking back at the younger Ego, who still hadn’t stirred. On impulse he reached out, brushing strands of teal green hair away from his tender, raw forehead. Jameson’s breathing shifted ever so slightly at the touch and Chase stilled, his heart skipping a few beats at a time. What would he say to him? What _could_ he say? The more important question was what he could say without crying—

Jameson’s eyes fluttered and blinked open, causing Chase’s heart to sink low against his sternum as he bowed his head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispered, his throat constricting around the words. “Just…just go back to sleep—”

 **“I’m _sorry_ , Chase!”** When Chase stopped up short at the words, Jameson’s speech slides rushed on without him. **“I’m sorry, truly I am! I didn’t mean to be careless with where I stepped, I didn’t mean to take that tumble and I—I ruined the whole show! I must’ve scared you out of your wits and I know you’ve not wanted to see me b-because I did it wrong! Please, won’t you forgive me? I don’t want you to be angry with me—”**

“ _Angry?_ ” Chase burst out in shock, startling the younger Ego so he flinched. “Angry—you thought I was angry? _No_ , Jameson! You’re the one who should be trying to forgive me! It was my fault; I should never have put you up there! You didn’t even want to do it—or if you did, you did it because you wanted to _impress_ me! That—that’s _my_ fault for letting you think I’m someone you should _ever_ look up to. All I ever do is ruin good things and get people _hurt_ …”

He wasn’t aware that the tears had spilled over until Jameson was fumbling to offer the blanket’s edge to him so he could wipe his face. He didn’t accept it, using the backs of his hands instead and sniffling hard. Letting the blanket slide through his fingers, Jameson let his eyes drift lower. Chase followed suit, barely able to stand looking at him underneath the crushing weight of the guilt clinging to his back.

Soft fingertips briefly brushed his wrist, recapturing his attention just enough that he could look up and find himself face to face with Jameson’s next words. There were only four of them—four words that simultaneously broke his heart and filled it with painstaking, bone-aching love.

**“Then I forgive you.”**

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! A...happier ending? It's not the best, but it's definitely happier than it was!


End file.
